


the things left unsaid

by bakane



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-07 23:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakane/pseuds/bakane
Summary: Jillian Holtzmann was far from the spectrum of normal. And by association, Erin Gilbert had no choice but to partake in whatever crazy antics her fellow colleague proposed. This particular plan, however, would bring them closer together, in ways neither of them could have ever expected. (Mind reading AU)





	1. Chapter 1

Jillian Holtzmann was far from the spectrum of normal. And by association, Erin Gilbert had no choice but to partake in whatever crazy mischievous plots her fellow colleague proposed.

“I’ve been working on a new project,” Holtzmann interrupted her one day, holding a strange device in her hands. It appeared to be a large metal helmet, like the kind found in cartoons – big and shiny with small light bulbs and antennas sticking out from the top.

Erin gave it half a glance before returning to her books. “That’s great, Holtz. But I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”

"Of course," Holtzmann said, "I can wait," then proceeded to stand there in giddy silence (not that Erin expected anything less from Holtzmann anyway).

“Okay, fine.” Erin sighed, setting down her pencil as she looked up. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

Holtzmann grinned at her. “Ever wonder what it’d be like for a ghost to read your mind?”

Erin blinked twice at the question. “No,” she answered slowly, “I can’t say that I have.”

“Really?” Holtzmann looked a bit surprised, as if this was the sort of thing everybody in the world should be pondering about. “Well, I’ve been running a hypothesis, whether or not non-corporal entities can read minds, especially after that whole Rowan incident. Just an interesting side project, nothing too difficult.”

“Sure.”

“I was thinking we should prepare ourselves for situations like that, you know,” Holtzmann went on, "given our professional fields.”

“Hold on. _You_ were thinking about possible safety measures?” Erin couldn’t help but sound surprised.

Holtzmann winked at her in return. “Well, I wouldn’t want your pretty little head to be thrown out a window anytime soon.”

“…Yes, let’s try and prevent that,” Erin said quietly, suddenly reminded of the horror stories she had heard of from Patty. It made it easier not to blush under Holtz’s comment.

“So, basically, if we were able to understand a ghost’s non-corporal ability, and we fiddled with some subatomic particles and brainwave functions, we can build a contraption that prevents ghosts from possessing our minds. Think of it as a ghost force field for our brains.”

“Okay…? That sounds very nice in theory.” Erin shrugged. “But I don’t know how we’d even begin to try and test that out in real life.”

Holtzmann, as if she were waiting for this opportune moment, stuck out the large helmet she’d been carrying in her arms.

“This is just a prototype,” she said, her eyes twinkling under the light. “Would you care to try it on?”

“But there are no ghosts here,” Erin pointed out.

“I know.” Holtzmann nodded but refused to say much more.

Realizing she had no other choice, Erin took the helmet into her hands. After all, she trusted Holtzmann enough to do her job correctly. She wouldn’t allow any of her friends to test out unsafe, dangerous, _radioactive_ equipment…

Erin gave the contraption one more sorrowful look, then glared at Holtzmann in unease. “If this makes my hair fall out, I swear to god…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You’d look great bald.”

“Holtzmann!”

“Kidding!” Holtzmann laughed.

Erin scoffed, not knowing how else to react to such a joke. She bit her lips in trepidation, and quite slowly, placed the metal hat on top of her head. It was much lighter than it appeared, but sank a few inches below her eyes, blocking much of her vision.

“Oops, too big.” She heard Holtzmann mutter before the helmet was taken off of her and she could see again. “Cool. Thanks, Erin.”

“Wait… What?” Erin sat up straight in her chair. “That’s it? That’s all you needed me for?”

“Yup!” Holtzmann waved at her as she exited the room. “Good night, Er!”

It took a while before Erin could think to do anything productive.

Finally, the physicist sighed, opening up her notes again, wondering what on earth that was about. If she knew any better, Holtzmann was just playing another prank on her. Sometimes, it seemed like that was all Holtzmann ever did around Erin – run some joke, manage to get a rise out of her, and then dismiss it again and again with some flirtatious remark. Her intentions were harmless, sure. But annoying all the same.

An hour or so passed by in relative silence. Around eight o’clock, Patty and Abby bid their farewells, deciding to go home for the night. Judging by the loud clanking sounds echoing from the second floor, Erin suspected that Holtzmann was still hard at work, doing whatever it was she did nowadays.

Erin was enjoying her solitude when she heard a series of disturbing noises from up above. It started off easy, a few minor medium-sized poofs. A small explosion. Nothing special, considering where she worked, but it was followed by a distinctive yelp of pain. Then, a loud thud. And then, silence.

“Holtzmann, was that you?” Erin called out.

There was not a sound, but the clock ticking into the night.

“Holtzmann!” Erin shouted this time, immediately jumping out of her chair. “Holtz? Are you there?” she demanded, her heart hammering as she ran up the stairway.

A limp body was lying across the floor. A tuft of blond hair poked out from underneath the hunk of metal. There was a wisp of smoke rising from the helmet, the bulbs blinking on top of Holtzmann’s head.

“Oh my god!” Erin knelt down on the ground, shaking the blonde senseless. “Holtz! Holtz, can you hear me? Holtzmann! Holtzmann, come on.”

She didn’t think twice, grabbing the piece of contraption with her bare hands.

A sharp tingle ran up her arms, dancing across her spine. An inexplicable string of events occurred: a flash of pain, a burning sensation, and images of people she’d never seen; flashes of Abby and Patty in their Ghostbusters uniform, and herself, smiling, eating a donut, and an overwhelming smell of oil, salt, and pine cones filled her nose.

It was a millisecond worth of time. An anomaly, a sharp break in consciousness.

Then, she was back.

In an instant, she dropped the helmet, which she had pried off of the blonde’s head. There was a bit of movement, followed by a low moan.

“Oh, thank god.” Erin let out a breath of relief.

“What happened?” Holtzmann slurred, attempting to sit up as she opened her bleary eyes.

“For goodness sake, Holtz. I don’t know! There was an explosion, and- and so I came up here, and you were already unconscious.” Erin shuddered at the thought. “What were you doing anyway?”

Holtzmann was processing this rather slowly. “Um… I believe I was in the middle of an experiment.”

Erin frowned, looking down at the metal hat, which now had scorch marks on each side. “Don’t tell me you were testing this thing out on yourself.”

“Perhaps?” Holtzmann was starting to grin again. “That sounds like something I’d do.”

“Holtz, please.” Erin groaned. “You don’t even have health insurance.”

“Ah, well. I promise I’ll be more careful next time,” said Holtzmann, though her smile, quite abruptly, slipped away from her face. “Geez, Erin. Are _you_ okay?”

“What?” Erin frowned. “Of course I am. Why?”

“Your hands,” Holtzmann pointed out grimly.

“Oh.” She looked down at them, noticing how red they were for the first time. They were sore, and a little swollen. “It’s nothing, just got a little electrocuted, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” Holtzmann mumbled, sounding remorseful, unlike her usual self.

“It’s okay. Accidents happen,” Erin assured her. “I’ve got some ointment downstairs. Let me go get it, for the both of us.”

Erin half-expected Holtzmann to dismiss her, something akin to “medicine is for dudes.” But she didn’t. The blonde stayed as quiet as she had been before, shaking her head as she helped Erin to her feet.

“No, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Oh, come on.” Erin rolled her eyes. “It’s fine! Holtz, you get electrocuted all the time.”

“This is different,” Holtzmann huffed.

“How is this any different?” Erin argued.

“Because it’s you.”

“What?" Erin challenged, standing tall. "Are you implying that I’m physically weak?”

“It's because you’re important,” Holtzmann clarified in a matter-of-fact way. Then she went to get her keys, leaving Erin in a flurry of confusion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erin and Holtzmann begin to realize that things are not quite like what they seem.

The trip to the ER proved to be rather fruitless. Erin always liked to be the one to say “I told you so,” but she didn’t have to, seeing as though Holtz seemed happy enough to hear that neither of their brains nor hearts had imploded as a result of her mistake. The metal helmet was never to be seen again in the lab.

And that should have been the end of it.

At first, everything seemed to be as normal as they always have been. Holtzmann was her same old playful self, destructive in the most harmless, charming way. Erin was eager to put the accident behind them, choosing to forget about the weird unexplainable incident she’d had with Holtz’s untested prototype.

Even so, there must have been several indications telling Erin that something was very, very wrong. Really, her first eye-opener should have been at the public library. They had been asked there, presumably to hunt a ghost, which later turned out to be a few children playing cruel tricks on the old paranoid librarians.

They were sitting outside on the benches, enjoying the spring weather and free sandwiches that were offered to them out of pity. Erin didn’t mind, secretly enjoying the fact that she was free of ectoplasm for once in her ghost busting days.

Abby was still inside, talking to the kids, who downright refused to apologize to anyone. Patty had gone across the street to buy some juice. And Holtzmann was sitting next to her, elbows taking up most of the space as she chewed.

“Oh, shoot. I hate pickles,” Holtzmann seemed to mumble to herself. Erin turned to her, eyebrows raised.

“You don’t like pickles?” It was a harmless question, a very harmless question about her friend’s vegetative preferences. It really didn’t require the long look of scrutiny that Erin received as a result.

“Yeah,” Holtzmann finally answered her. “How’d you know?”

“Because you just said so.”

“I did?”

“Um, yeah?” It was Erin’s turn to be confused.

Holtzmann didn’t look entirely convinced. She didn’t say much else though, not as Abby popped back up by their sides, looking thoroughly fed up with the future generation.

* * *

The next instance had been at the firehouse.

Erin was working on some new theories, a possible thesis for publication. She had a hefty amount of notes scattered all across her desk. Her whiteboard was full of unanswered equations, scribbles and scribbles worth of frustration.

It didn’t help though, that Holtzmann seemed to be singing with her very heart and soul. Her 80’s music playlist was already loud enough, but Holtzmann’s voice certainly took the win.

Erin tried not to let it bother her. After all, she didn’t occupy this space by herself. Holtzmann had every right to blast her music if she truly wanted to. But it was getting close to midnight, and Erin was about to lose her patience.

The same a-ha song was beginning to start up again, repeating itself for the fifth time in a row. Holtz’s voice filled every corner of the room, crooning along to the rising chorus.

“Taaake on meee” she sang.

And it was fine. Really.

“Taaaake meee onnnnnn-”       

No, really.

“I’lllll beee goneeeee-”

No, seriously.

“In a day or twooooooooooooooooo-”

“Holtzmannnn!” Erin shouted at the top of her lungs.

At once, the music seemed to stop.

“You called, my lady?” Holtzmann’s head popped up after a minute, looking down at her from the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry, but could you stop singing, just for like five minutes?” Erin begged of her.

This was the second time in a week that Holtzmann looked stumped.  

“I was singing out loud?” the blonde asked with a frown.

“Please, Holtz.” Erin was sure that the scientist was messing with her now. “At least change the song, okay?”

“Yeah, no problem... But-” Holtzmann looked a bit frazzled, which was rare to see on any given day. “Are you sure? Are you sure you heard me singing? It wasn’t anyone else?”

“I think I know your voice pretty well by now,” said Erin, and began to feel concerned, wondering if Holtz’s memory was at fault. “Are you feeling all right? Did you electrocute yourself again?”

But Holtzmann was already racing down the stairs, her words falling on deaf ears. She stopped, just an inch or two away from where Erin stood. Her eyes were wide open, bulging almost from their sockets. Erin met her frightful gaze, not knowing how else she was supposed to proceed.

This was weird, even for Holtzmann.

The moment passed as Holtzmann took an abrupt step back, her mouth hanging open. She looked stunned, breathless and slack-jawed. And then she fled the room, running out the door without a proper word of explanation.

Erin went home that day, feeling temperamental and bemused.

* * *

The next day was the final and last straw.

Holtzmann was staring at her, all throughout the morning. It was the long, relentless, unblinking sort of stare.

Whenever Erin would look up, however, the blonde would look away, pretending as though she were doing something with a screwdriver, or poorly hiding behind a pile of wires.

It was almost as if she were waiting for something. Once in a while, Erin could swear she heard the scientist gasp. Other times, she’d be muttering something, all gibberish, and nonsense. Something about the impossible and the possible. Something about experimental physics. Something about the line between science and sorcery.

Finally, Erin decided she had suffered enough of Holtzmann’s eccentricity. She grabbed her book, her half-eaten burrito, and got up from her desk, having resolved to eat lunch outside in peace. She had gotten about ten feet away when she heard another low whisper.

“Erin?” The voice asked.

It was Holtz, Erin knew, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Erin,” Holtzmann called to her again. She pursed her lips in response, not knowing if she wanted to play along just yet.

“Erin, Erin, Erin, Erin, Erin, Erin, Erin, Erin, Erin-”

“What, Holtz?” She finally snapped, turning sharply on her heels. “What do you want?”

Holtzmann was sitting, cross-legged, on a couch from across the room, much farther than she appeared to have sounded.

Now, Abby and Patty were looking at Erin like she was crazy. They had stopped talking over their bowls of soup and wantons, spending a minute of their time to throw a puzzled glance between her and Holtz.

Holtz, however, had suddenly gotten to her feet. In an instant, she was by her side, her calloused hand gripping tightly over Erin’s wrist.

“We need to talk,” Holtzmann said, her mouth kept tightly shut, her lips unmoving.

* * *

“No… No. No, this can’t be happening.”

_'Calm down, Gilbert.'_

“Holtz, please. We’re scientists. This isn’t supposed to be possible.”

_'You can’t deny the evidence here, Er. The facts. Even now, we’re-'_

“We’re reading each other’s minds, yes, I know! Could you stop doing that?” Erin leaned against the bathroom counter, feeling dizzy and ill. “Oh, man. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Relax.” Holtzmann cooed. “Just take a deep breath. In and out. In and-”

“Relax? How can we- How can you tell me to- How can you even suggest that we-?” Erin found it very hard to be coherent. “I’m sorry, should we _not_ be panicking right now?”

“Erin, this is a brilliant scientific discovery.” Holtzmann wore a maniacal grin. “Somehow, our minds have interlinked, temporarily, maybe even permanently! We need to research this!”

“Oh, Holtzmann…” Erin had no energy left to argue. She let out a long, unceremonious groan, and soon after collapsed into a seat.

“What am I thinking right now?” Holtzmann asked her, shockingly unfazed.

Quite reluctantly, Erin found herself a part of this ridiculous experiment. The same excited voice echoed through her mind.

' _I borrowed Patty’s Walkman and accidentally smashed it in half.'_

“Patty’s going to murder you,” Erin deadpanned. Holtzmann, however, looked as though Christmas had come early.

“What about now?” Holtzmann smiled as she conjured up another thought.

_'I think Erin has a secret fetish for punching people in the face.'_

“I do not!” Erin denied hotly, but Holtzmann was already gone, running out the door in a state of careless exuberance.

_'Can you still hear me, Er? I’m all the way down on the first floor!'_

“Yes, I can hear you,” Erin replied, exhausted and annoyed. “Can you hear what I’m thinking as well?”

_'You’re loud and clear, Houston!'_

Holtzmann sounded all too gleeful.

_'Oh! How about visual telepathy? I’m transferring a message to you right now. Can you tell me what you’re seeing?'_

An image flashed at the back of her mind.

“Pringles.” Erin cracked the tiniest of smiles. “I see a can of Pringles.”

Holtzmann’s laughter rang inside her ears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erin tries to adjust.

Erin considered herself a good scientist. She had been up for tenure, after all. At Columbia University, of all places. So what if she wasn’t exactly thrilled about the situation at hand? It was new, yes, and certainly intriguing. She would have to admit that.

But she had to draw the line there. Because unlike Holtzmann, Erin wasn't the type of person to delight over new ghost sightings or eat potato chips in the face of death. 

Because unlike Holtzmann, Erin was terrified. 

This was _meant_ to be impossible. It broke the very laws of physics. And Erin was a physicist. And this was nothing like what she’d ever studied before.

It was unanimously decided that this should be kept as a secret, for now. At least until they could figure out a scientific explanation for their physic connection.

To Erin’s great surprise, Holtzmann was the first to suggest that they keep this matter between the two of them. Apparently, she had her reasons. It would eliminate unnecessary variables, any possible unwanted, unwarranted attention. Bypass any safety precautions or rules. There were seven bullet points in total, listed back-to-back, and not any of them had made much sense.

Of course, Erin wasn’t against the idea. It was almost second nature to her, to try and avoid such conversations. Speaking from experience, back when the presence of  _ghosts_ had been her only existing problem, generally, people tended to not question the unimaginable and tended to label those who did as mentally deranged. It wasn’t that she feared Abby or Patty wouldn’t believe them. Erin was sure even Kevin would have faith in her if they explained it to him long enough. But still, it didn’t help that what the two of them had to share sounded absolutely bat-shit crazy when verbalized. How would one even begin to start that discussion?

Scenario #1: “Hey, guys. Just thought you should know, Holtzmann and I are able to read each other’s minds now. It’s cool, nothing special. Anyways, what’s for lunch?”

Scenario #2: “So… Ever wonder what it’d be like to read Holtzmann’s mind? Because, you know, I sort of can. Why? You may ask. Well, that’s a good question…”

Scenario #3: “It was Holtzmann’s idea! I swear! I had nothing to do with this!”

…No, Erin would prefer to delay that conversation for as long as possible.

The only thing that hadn’t changed was Holtzmann. Holtzmann, who was still curious and cheery. Her ingenious, albeit slightly deranged, friend, who was always enthused with the unknown and never backed away from a challenge.

"It's okay, Gilbert," Holtzmann reassured her. "We'll figure this out together."

So Erin couldn’t stay too mad at her. Even though, technically, it was Holtzmann’s invention that was to blame for their current predicament. After all, if Erin had to choose anyone in the world to fix a problem like this one, it would have to be Holtzmann.

Any spare time Holtzmann had, when she wasn’t eating, sleeping, or upgrading their equipment, she would be at the special corner of her lab, twinkling with the burnt helmet she’d recovered back from the dumpster.

“Loyal,” Abby had described her. And loyal she was. It was just unfortunate that the words “and insane” seemed to always follow at the end of that sentence.

* * *

They began by studying the factors of travel. And the conclusion was that distance didn’t seem to matter. Whether they were standing far away or standing side-by-side, the messages they sent were clear and transparent. Holtzmann couldn’t test this theory beyond a couple miles (unless one of them were to leave the city for a short period of time), but that was an assumption the two of them were willing to make.

To Erin's great relief, the telepathy wasn't a continual norm. Holtzmann's presence was undeniable, for most of the time, but her voice came through to Erin like random bursts of thoughts. Similar to a radio signal, sometimes there, sometimes non-existent.

Holtzmann was beginning to compile a list, a list of things that they could or could not do. So far, the possibilities seemed endless.

Erin tried to do the same as well, though she’d been less optimistic about it. Often, her notes consisted of nothing more than a few drawings and several lines of observations.

Mostly, it was loud in Holtzmann's mind.

It made it near impossible for Erin to work anymore, not with Holtz’s rambunctious thoughts swirling inside her own head. They were as hectic and disorganized as Erin always pictured them to be, if not worse. Not that she'd been fantasizing about what Holtzmann ruminates on. It's just that everything about the young blonde, what she said or did, was so characteristically  _Holtzmann_ that Erin supposed she shouldn't be surprised.

There was little to no filter existing between what Holtzmann thought and what she chose to share. Not to mention that her mind was constantly on the move, swinging from one branch to another, making it quite impossible to follow. If Erin ever did manage to understand Holtzmann's rant, she would have already passed on to a different issue, and by the time Erin figured that one out, she’d be lost all over again.

It was a bit unfair, to say the least. Because Erin was sure that Holtzmann was not nearly having as of a hard time adjusting to their new dynamic as she did.

At one point, her frustration turned into admiration, and respect, because Holtzmann's brain never ceased to work, it never ceased to think and to invent. Even her dreams ran wild, and Erin had to wake up in the middle of the night, with pictures of blueprints for a wristwatch that could somehow shapeshift into a ghost-tranquilizing gun.

‘Holtzmann. Stop.’ Erin moaned, after four days’ worth of restless sleep.

_‘I’m working on some next level stuff here, Gilbert.’_

‘Well, I don’t care about particle acceleration right now. It’s past midnight. Just go to sleep.’

_‘…I can’t. I’m married to science. I’ve taken Physics as my wife.’_

‘Well, tell your _wife_ that you need a divorce.’

There was a short pause before Holtzmann spoke again, her tone light and teasing.

_‘Do wedding vows mean nothing to you, dear?’_

‘Holtzmann, I _need_ to sleep.’

Another pause, running a minute longer than the first. Then, finally-

_‘Good night, Erin.’_

She could hear the difference, her voice a little softer, more genuine and sweet, almost like a lullaby. Erin’s body tingled at the thought, but she soon fell asleep, grateful that Holtzmann kept her word and seemed to fall silent after that.

The biggest complication was trying to act as naturally as humanly possible, something Erin was never very good at.

It took a while until she remembered to stop talking to herself when reacting to Holtzmann. It created many moments of confusion, especially for Kevin, the poor thing.

“I just had a sandwich actually," Kevin once told her, seemingly out of the blue. "But thanks anyway, boss.”

Erin turned to face him, feeling as though she missed an important part of the conversation. “Um... I beg your pardon?”

“You asked if I wanted to get something to eat," he explained, grinning rather brightly at her.

Then Erin would have to backtrack on her private conversation with Holtzmann, remember that she had asked Holtzmann if she wanted to join her for dinner tonight, and slowly realize that she had said all of this out loud by accident. 

“Oh. Sorry, Kevin." Erin gave a nervous laugh. "I wasn’t, um, talking to you.”

“You weren’t?” He looked around the room as if expecting to see a ghost hidden around the corner. "But there's nobody else here."

“I know. I was just talking to Hol-” Erin stopped herself in time. “Myself. I was talking to myself.” 

Erin realized how stupid she must have sounded (because who on earth would ask if they wanted to go have dinner with themselves).

 _'Nice save.'_ Holtzmann chimed in, listening out of pure amusement.

Thankfully, Kevin was, well, Kevin.

“Right." He nodded along. "I do that too sometimes.”

Erin was promptly saved, when Holtzmann chose that exact moment to slide down the pole, asking if she were ready to head on out for some grub. 

Most times with Kevin, they could slip in a lie unnoticed. Nevertheless, some situations were harder to explain than others. Despite Erin growing more and more used to talking to Holtzmann via the mind, to others, it would still look suspicious (and downright concerning). Sometimes they would spend hours at a time, carrying on conversations using only their minds. And if anyone else were to walk in on them, it would appear as if the two were engaging in the world's longest, most heated staring contest.

Like Abby, for instance.

"...Am I interrupting something?" Abby had asked when she found them sitting (and staring intently) at each other in silence.

“No, we were just...” Erin tried to come up with some terrible excuse (to no avail).

Holtzmann didn't say a word, but she did look rather pleased with herself.

* * *

 Erin was in an awful mood by the end of two excruciatingly long weeks.

She'd been succeeding in sleeping more at least, and Holtzmann had been considerate enough to apologize, (and almost begged Erin to tell her if she were ever, truly, bothering the brunette). 

Still, it didn't help that it'd been a particularly grueling process for the past couple of days. Just by pure reason, it was not an easy task, to share her mind with somebody else. Erin had never been very good at sharing anything, whether it be toys when she was younger, or friends, back when she had many friends, or food, since the beginning of time. 

To top it all off, her parents had the nerve to call her, judging, once again, over her recent decisions, her choice of profession, and her lack of a future husband. She'd thought that after all they had been through, the press, the news interest, and the whole 'saving-New-York-City-from-a-ghost-apocalypse' thing, her parents would have understood her by now. Or, they could have had the decency to pretend as though they approved. 

But no, she'd been expecting too much of them, as per usual. Time and time again, she told herself not to keep her hopes too high, to just drop it and not care about what other people thought of her, but her desperation to please them seemed to rise through the roofs whenever they suddenly sprung her over the phone.

Erin went home early that day. She had been planning on dealing with this foul mood the only way she knew how: with an empty apartment and a bottle of red wine.

Alone.

That was the key word there.

A liberty, it seemed, that Erin no longer possessed.

_'What’s wrong?’_

Erin flinched, startled as she nearly dropped her second glass of Merlot. She quickly glanced around the living room. Of course, there was nobody else in her house. It was just Holtzmann. Holtzmann, who was still at the firehouse, only a couple blocks away. Holtzmann, whose voice now occupied her mind.

‘It’s nothing.’ Erin tried to pretend. ‘I just stubbed my toe, that’s all.’

She could almost hear Holtzmann frown.

_'No. You’re sad. Why are you sad?’_

Erin sighed, realizing that there was nowhere to hide.

'Just my parents.’ Erin grumbled. 'The same old stuff you've heard before.'

The disapproval. The disgust. The disappointment.

_‘Stop that.’_

Erin paused, not understanding what Holtzmann had meant.

_‘You’re doing it again.’_

‘Doing what?’ Erin shot back.

_‘You know what.’_

There was an edge to Holtzmann's voice, though still soft and oddly soothing. She could feel it, coursing through the words like a river. A wave of concern, mixed with sternness. Like, Holtzmann didn't want to accept what she was hearing.

Erin didn’t reply, out of stubbornness, and it took a long time before Holtzmann decided she had something more to add.

_‘Do you want me to come over?’_

It was a very genuine offer. Erin wondered if Holtz could sense her hesitation in return.

_'You don't have to think twice about it, Er. I'm here if you need me.'_

And the way she said it, all serious and brooding, made Erin laugh. Just a tiny bit. Because Erin was an adult, and Holtzmann, who was definitely much younger than she was, seemed to be sounding like the older one for a change.

It was ridiculous because she was too old to be feeling this way anymore. The fact that she couldn't hide it any better made it a tad embarrassing. And the fact that Holtzmann would just  _know_ this, made it both funny and sad at the same time.

"No. I’m fine, Holtzmann," Erin said again. "Really."

She waited for another minute to pass.

_‘For the record… I think you’re brilliant, Doctor Gilbert.’_

Once again, all sincerity. No joke.

“Thank you, Holtzmann.” Erin managed a small smile.

_‘Don’t mention it, hot stuff.’_

Holtzmann sent her one final message after that, an image of a friendly ghost who seemed to be hugging the open air. Then, radio silence.

Erin still found it hard to believe that there were any personal benefits to be made from this situation.

The Ghostbusters filled a void. It created a safe place. A "family," as Holtzmann had put it one day. But still, it was a collective thing. A team effort. Not something personal, not an intimate relationship that belonged to Erin, and Erin alone. She wasn't used to having somebody to depend on. Not since Abby anyway, and she had been the one to throw that away for something so nominal and stupid.

Except, Holtzmann _was_  becoming that someone now, Erin realized a little too late.

Always there.

Never wavering. 

She was that somebody, who listened to her without being asked to. Someone who understood her mood swings better than she did herself.

And it was infuriating, Erin concluded. She didn’t understand why or how she felt that way. She didn’t like how inexplicably  _whole_ she'd feel, whenever Holtzmann whispered a "good night" or "sweet dreams" into her ears. It was disturbingly easy, to be comforted by Holtz's presence, a familiar constant in her life, despite all the instability Holtzmann seemed to bring into the equation.

No. It shouldn't be that easy. It couldn't.

Nothing, Erin assumed, lasted forever.

And if Holtzmann had been overhearing any of this, she certainly didn’t choose to say a word.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A breakfast argument amongst friends.

Erin woke to the sound of knocking at her door.

She rose from the couch, groaning as she did. The discomfort of last night’s sleep still weighed down on her neck and shoulders. Rays of sunlight were trickling into the room, seeping through the drawn curtains. Erin squinted over at the clock, checking to see the time. It was much earlier than she had expected it to be.

_‘Good morning!’_

Erin grunted in response, feeling more irritable now, with Holtzmann’s voice snickering through her ears.

“You have got to stop doing that,” Erin grumbled under her breath.

 _‘Did you sleep well last night?’_ Holtzmann asked anyway, sounding unusually merry. But before Erin could answer, there was another distant knock – louder this time, with more intent.

“Um, there's somebody at my door,” Erin replied with a sigh. "I'll talk to you later, okay?”

_‘Yup. That’d be me.’_

“…You're what?”

_‘I brought you breakfast!’_

“You brought…” Erin paused for a moment. “Holtzmann, what do you mean you’re _here_?”

She was sure this was just another one of Holtz’s infamous jokes, but then a voice snapped Erin out of her stupor. Solid, this time. Completely corporeal.

“Come on, Erin!” She heard Holtzmann's voice, muffled through the wood. “Your coffee's getting cold."

Erin looked around her room in alarm, at the mess that was uncoiling around her. She hadn’t cleaned up anything since last night. The empty bottle of wine was still rolling around on the carpet. There were a couple of chips lying eschew on the coffee table.

Holtzmann was knocking again, and Erin sprung off of the couch.

She wasn’t even dressed yet! Her clothes were still in the bedroom. She couldn't possibly greet Holtzmann in her over worn pajamas...

"I can hear you freaking out, Gilbert."

Realizing there was no other choice, Erin sighed, pacing quickly towards Holtzmann's drawling voice. With one last breath of trepidation, she opened the door.

Holtz was standing in the hallway, leaning against a neighboring wall. Bared teeth, a crooked smile on her face; she stood out like a sore candlestick, with her leather jacket and paint-tainted overalls, her bright blonde hair tied up in its usual poof, and yellow-tinted glasses perched perfectly on her nose. In her hands, she held a cup of black coffee, in the other, a small brown paper bag. 

“You’re looking as gorgeous as always,” said Holtzmann as she gave her a short salute. Erin shifted on her feet, feeling needlessly self-conscious about her messy hair, the bags under her eyes…

“How’d you even get into this building?” Erin asked instead, trying to keep herself distracted.

“I have my ways,” Holtzmann replied with a mischievous glint. For a second, Erin could have sworn she saw a glimpse of Holtz’s memory, flirting with the young security guard down on the ground floor, but that image quickly fluttered away as Holtzmann cleared her throat.

“So…? May I come in?” she asked, sounding as though she were trying to be polite.

“Um… Sure.” Quite reluctantly, Erin stepped out of the way, watching carefully as Holtzmann crossed the threshold into her apartment. The blonde had a quick look around, letting out a low whistle of excitement. She set down the gifts she brought on the coffee table, and without fair warning, nosedived onto Erin's living room couch. Resting her legs on top of the armrest, she looked as cozy and snug as she would be at her own house.

“Comfy,” Holtzmann decided, as she played with one of the cushions.

“It's from Pottery Barn.” Erin wasn't sure why she felt the need to share this, but she found herself telling it anyway.

“Oh, that's nice.” Holtzmann hummed in approval. “I found mine in a dumpster across the street. I still think there’s something living in it. Possibly a rodent.”

“Holtzmann, seriously,” Erin stopped her from starting another tangent. “What are you doing here?”

The blonde flashed her an eager smile. “I brought you breakfast.”

“Exactly.” Erin stared down at her. “Why?”

“Because it's supposed to be the most important meal of the day," Holtzmann explained half-heartedly.

"Oh, really?" Erin raised her eyebrows in suspicion. "And this is coming from the girl who once ate jelly beans for breakfast."

"They were the fruity-flavored kind,” Holtzmann argued back, as though this made a great difference.

Erin rolled her eyes in return, waiting for the young blonde to get serious on her own time. It took a minute, but Holtzmann turned to face her, sitting properly with both hands on her lap. She was frowning, her brows wrinkling, scrunched up in concentration.

“Just figured you needed it,” she told her with a shrug.

“I told you I was fine," Erin countered with a frown.

"Well, it didn't feel fine," Holtzmann huffed, sounding a bit annoyed.

Annoyed. _Holtzmann_ was annoyed.

About what? The fact that she wasn't welcome here, completely unannounced? The fact that Erin was mad that she didn't believe her? That she didn't want to talk about every single feeling or thought that popped into her head, things that she couldn't even hide anymore, because of the mess _she_ had made to begin with?

"Erin," Holtzmann interrupted her again, her voice quiet and withdrawn.

_'Stop it. Please.'_

It wasn't the first time she heard Holtzmann's voice echo in her mind. It wasn't even the first time she'd heard that same request.

But it was the first time that Erin obeyed: she stopped, she cleared her mind, and she listened. Not just to Holtzmann's words, buzzing in her ear. She felt Holtz; she felt her concern, her worries, her anxiety, and worst of all, her _wounds_. 

Just one word, one instance, and the feeling was so immense, so enormous. And Erin began to wonder if _this_ was what she felt from Holtzmann, just what might Holtzmann be picking up from her in return? She wondered if this was what Holtz endured, and that was why the young scientist had always been so quick to ask what was wrong, so quick to turn up by her side with comforting words and encouraging gestures.

She wondered if Holtzmann really was handling this as well as Erin assumed.

She wondered if Holtzmann did indeed hear everything from last night.

She wondered if Holtzmann knew.

"Erin. I'm getting a migraine," Holtzmann cut in.

And there it was again, that same flash of pain.

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," Erin squeaked, already plenty regretful. “I just- I can't help it. I’ve been on the edge lately.”

“I know," Holtzmann replied. Her face began to harden, with that occasional look of maturity coming forth. “It's okay. I know you don't mean to."

There was a little pause, as Holtzmann played with the frayed edges of her sleeve.

“I wanted to talk to you," she went on, her voice becoming stilted, just like it always did whenever Holtzmann found trouble speaking what was on her mind. "I like talking face-to-face. It’s easier."

Erin stared at her, with Holtzmann staring right back, both unsure how to continue. She tried to drown out the noise in Holtz's mind, the chaos that seemed to be unraveling.

"I'm sorry, about everything," said Holtzmann, looking upset as she rushed to explain. "I know I've said it before, in my head, but some things need to be said out loud for it to really be heard."

"No. You don't have to apologize." Erin felt her shoulders sag, mad at herself for blaming Holtzmann in the first place. "I'm sorry too."

The following silence was strained, with both of them avoiding eye contact. Everything was awkward. This entire situation was just plain awkward.

Erin chewed on the bottom of her lips, trying to think as little as possible, plopping down on the couch next to Holtz. She eyed the coffee on the table, still steaming hot. There was a warm doughy smell coming from the bag Holtzmann had brought.

Reading her mind (as she probably was doing at the moment), Holtzmann reached out and pulled one out of the bag. It was a blueberry bagel - Erin's favorite breakfast snack. She passed it over to her, albeit hesitantly. Erin took it, with an equal amount of unease and embarrassment. 

“Thank you,” Erin finally managed to say. "This was... This was really nice of you."

Holtzmann nodded slowly in reply. She didn't look as sad as she did a minute ago, but her smile only reached half of its usual length.

“No problem, sweet cheeks," Holtzmann said.

_'I'm going to fix this.'_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Holtzmann pushes herself too hard. Erin tries to intervene.

It would be safe to say that Holtzmann practically lived at the firehouse. She was always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave. Sometimes, when the night got too dark, she’d take out an old sleeping bag and crash on the communal couch. Usually, Erin would be the one to find her the next morning, waking Holtzmann up before others had the chance to do so.

For the next few days, however, Holtzmann’s presence in the lab reached a point of concern. She’d be standing by the coffee machine every morning, awake and alert. She’d greet Abby and Patty as they came in, give Kevin a small pat on the back, and throw a quick smile in Erin’s direction. Not too long; the blonde hardly ever lingered anymore. Then, she’d disappear to the second floor, and the rest of the team wouldn’t see her again for hours on end.

At first, it wasn’t too worrying, considering Holtzmann’s tendency to get a little carried away, but even her thoughts were quieter than usual. No jokes, no intrusive thoughts – just equations, theories, layouts, and designs.

Erin tried to keep her anxiety at bay, especially after finding out how much she could be affecting Holtz as well. It didn’t help though, not knowing what Holtzmann was up to, not knowing whether she was avoiding Erin as much as Erin was avoiding Holtzmann.

Patty was the second to notice. Patty, who was typically the one to make sure the rest of them ate three square meals a day. Often enough, Erin saw her trying to catch Holtzmann’s tail, holding a sandwich or a fruit bowl up to her nose.

Any other day, Holtzmann would let Patty chase her, laughing, and eventually taking a bite of food once she was caught. But as the week passed, even eating seemed to become a waste of time for Holtzmann. She’d come down once in a while, around noon, just for lunch. And even then, she’d pick up a small share of her food, salute the delivery man, and head right on upstairs to her secret workshop.

Patty tried her best to keep Holtzmann on course, but her latest attempt to distract Holtz from her work ended very badly, with Holtzmann almost losing an eye from dangerous equipment that had been left unattended. Brave, though she was, Patty seemed a bit reluctant to help after that.

Abby, surprisingly, stayed out of Holtzmann’s way (Erin was quick to point this out). She was equally puzzled to see Abby’s reaction, a mere shrug, as though this was something she’d dealt with numerous times before.

“You shouldn't worry about her so much,” Abby told her. “She does this all the time.”

“What do you mean?” Erin asked, frowning at Abby’s nonchalance.

“Back when we were working together,” she explained, putting down her container of wontons, "Holtzmann wouldn’t leave the lab for weeks until she finished with the PKE meter.”

“But…” Erin thought about this new piece of information. “That’s not very healthy, is it?”

“Tell me about it.” Abby sighed, looking a little disheartened. “I’ve tried to get her to stop. Even locked the doors once, stole her keys and everything. But she ended up breaking in through the bathroom window.”

If not for the situation, Erin would have amused herself with the image of Holtz, trying to fit through a four feet wide window, as small as she may be.

“Trust me," Abby continued, squeezing Erin gently on the shoulder. “She’ll stop once she’s done working on, uh, whatever it is that she’s working on.”

Which could take weeks, months even, Erin reasoned to herself. 

Eventually, she decided it was her duty to intervene. It was a Wednesday afternoon when it happened. She was staring at her empty notes, distracted, listening to Holtzmann tampering with something from her lab.

‘Hey,’ Erin casually began. ‘What you doing up there?’

Then she waited, for a pretty long time she’d imagine, approximately seventy-two seconds by her estimations.

 _‘I’m busy.’_ Holtzmann finally replied.

It was brief, not to mention rude, something Erin wasn't familiar with, not from Holtzmann that is.

‘Yes. I know you’re busy.’ Erin took in a slow breath. ‘Busy doing what?’

_‘…Work.’_

‘What kind of work?’ Erin asked patiently. ‘Maybe I can help.’

There was a momentary pause. She could practically see Holtzmann, setting down the screwdriver in her right hand, just for a second, before shaking her head, clearing her thoughts, and getting back on track.

_‘Sorry, Erin. I need to focus.’_

And Erin would have left it at that, if she didn’t feel Holtzmann’s exhaustion, oozing into her own skin. An unnatural silence and desertion reigned there.

She got up from her chair after a minute of careful consideration. With a cup of warm tea in hand (as her excuse), she headed up the stairway, making sure her heels clanked loudly against the surface of the floor. She didn’t want another “Patty-startles-Holtzmann-to-death” situation to deal with.

Erin cleared her throat, loudly, and there was no way Holtzmann did not notice, but the scientist was still hard at work by the time she reached the second floor. There were piles and piles of metal scraps on each desk, drills, and other dangerous tools lying around, unattended. The room’s condition seemed to mirror current Holtzmann's state of mind – chaotic and a bit unhinged. 

Erin dared herself to take another step, just as Holtzmann finally seemed to look up. She was wearing a unique pair of spectacles, with thick lenses, the kind that seemed to magnify her light blue eyes.

There was something minuscule in her hands; it looked circular in form and beige in color. It was shuffled out of sight though, as Holtzmann frowned and pulled the goggles off her face.

“I thought I said-”

“I heard you,” Erin spoke before Holtz could argue further on. “I just thought you might need a break.”

Holtzmann looked torn, as if she would want nothing more than to sit down and chat with Erin over a cup of tea, but also, much like she would rather jump out the second-floor window than even consider catching a break.

_'It's Erin. Right. Just tea. Do it quick. Drink.'_

Holtzmann's frazzled voice echoed in the back of Erin's head. It sounded even worse than usual, with absolutely no sense of direction, like how one might sound after downing one too many energy drinks or espresso shots.

Fortunately, Holtzmann appeared to come to a decision fairly quickly, taking the mug into her hands. She gave Erin one weirdly frantic smile, then drained the cup in one large swish.

“Thanks," she said, and promptly returned her attention to the junk on her workbench.

“But that was hardly a break!” Erin blustered, pouting almost, at the empty cup on Holtzmann’s table.

But Holtzmann didn’t seem to notice, nodding twice as she picked up another wrench. Erin listened to her thoughts run amok, short and choppy with each passing.

_‘I should- Nope. Can’t. Twist that. Too loose. Erin’s still- No time. Focus.’_

Though Erin waited for a while, she soon realized that Holtzmann had no intentions of carrying on the conversation. She stood there, fidgeting with her unoccupied fingers, watching Holtzmann straighten and screw, hammer and solder, her expression unwavering, tight-lipped and sweaty.

Finally, Erin took the hint and left.

_‘Sorry.’_

She heard once she’d already reached the ground floor.

To be completely honest, Holtzmann’s level of restraint was downright impressive, and under normal circumstances, would definitely be something worth praising, but it didn’t change the fact that Erin felt oddly hurt by the dismissal.

Of course, she was used to Holtzmann working hard, but she'd never seen it like this before, fanatical, all-consuming, nearly-obsessive.

She missed the old Holtz, rocking out to her 80's tunes, being as loud and enthusiastic and charmingly cocky as possible. She wondered if all geniuses went through stages like this. Holtzmann had always been hard to predict, closer to a mad scientist than anything else, really.

There were only a few things Erin had learned, during her short period of knowing Holtz; she was recklessly brave, annoyingly friendly, shamelessly brilliant, tirelessly caring, and _shockingly stubborn_.

Subsequently, Erin came to a slow, but undeniable realization that she didn’t know very much about Holtzmann to begin with. They’d been working together for three months at the most, since the day Erin walked into Kenneth P. Higgins Institute of Science. It felt longer, considering how much Holtzmann had been involved in her life since recently. But surely, it wasn’t long enough.

Erin forced herself to remember what Abby had said. Yes, supposedly the madness would end, once Holtzmann finished this new project of hers. After all, Abby had been friends with Holtzmann way before Erin, and Abby sounded pretty confident with her words.

So, instead of going with her guts, Erin decided to follow her advice, ignoring that tiny itch in the back of her head which told her that this went far beyond Holtzmann’s usual compulsions.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Holtzmann doesn't show up to work, Erin gets a little worried.

On day eight of Holtzmann’s ridiculous silent treatment (not that she was counting), Erin walked into the office and found the place to be absent of any tinkering sounds or the faint scent of motor oil.

It was a bit disconcerting, finding the firehouse in complete eerie silence. Because silence meant only one of two things: either Holtzmann was absent from the lab, or Holtzmann was, god forbid, incapacitated in some way.

Erin went upstairs to check, and sure enough, the place was vacant, with the lights turned off and the equipment left untouched and powered down.

“Holtzmann?” Erin called out of instinct, frowning when she heard the sound of running water from down below. She looked over the second-floor balcony, just in time to see Patty exiting the bathroom.

“Oh, geez!” Patty swore as she noticed Erin staring. “You scared the hell out of me, man. What you doing up there?”

“Sorry, I was just looking for Holtzmann,” Erin apologized with a nervous laugh. “Is, uh, is she here yet?”

“Don’t think so.” Patty shrugged in reply. “I didn’t see her when I walked in. She probably went home for a change.”

“Maybe…” Erin mumbled. It didn't seem very likely though, considering recent events.

“Why are you looking for her anyway?” Patty asked, after catching the look on Erin’s face. "You need something?”

“No! No, of course not.” Erin shook her head rather fervently. “I just thought I would ask."

Thankfully, Patty didn't have a chance to be suspicious, not as Kevin walked into the room, wearing a goofy smile as he tripped over the floormat. Taking this chance, Erin fluttered back to her desk unnoticed.

She found it impossible to focus, not as her eyes kept darting back and forth between the whiteboard and the front door.

Erin looked down at her watch. Roughly thirty minutes had passed since she walked into the office. Any other morning she would have already sat down at her desk, with a bagel and a cup of coffee, happy to finally get some work done without Holtzmann’s crazy ideas cluttering her mind. What a blessing that would be.

But today, there was something unsettling about the silence.

Today, the emptiness distracted her.

Erin jumped out of her thoughts, shoulders tensing when she saw the handle jiggle from across the room.

It was Abby who walked in though, not Holtzmann.

Hiding her disappointment, Erin greeted Abby just like everybody else. "Good morning!" she said, her pitch unnaturally high and squeaky.

"Why do you sound like that?" Abby pointed out, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"What are you talking about?" Erin cleared her throat, looking innocent. But Abby, having known Erin the longest, saw right through this act. 

"Is everything okay?" Abby asked as she sat down next to her. 

“Yeah, totally." Erin blinked twice. "Everything's fine."

"Are you sure?" Abby raised an eyebrow. "Because you're kind of...perspiring."

"It's hot in here, that's all," Erin lied, pretending to fan herself with a piece of paper. Then as casually as possible, she broached what was really on her mind.

"Do you happen to know where Holtzmann is?" she asked, very breezily, and yet very carefully. "Have you heard anything from her?”

“Uh… No? But I think I lost my phone during our last bust, so who knows," Abby added as an afterthought. “She’s probably just gone dumpster diving or something. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not," she mumbled as a complaint.

Stop worrying - Erin was sick of hearing that by now. Because Erin knew that  _something_  had to be wrong. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't just being paranoid. The feeling sank deep into her bones, an instinctual premonition like no other. Her head felt heavier than usual as if something dark and murky was stuck inside her mind- _Holtz’s_ mind.

She ignored Abby this time, deciding to head back upstairs to investigate.

‘Holtzmann. Where are you?’ Erin asked again, once she was alone. When she heard no answer, the panic rose in her like bile.

‘Holtz, please talk to me,' she begged. 'Holtz?'

And just as her thoughts were about to spiral out of control, she heard a low whisper in her ear.

_‘Erin?’_

It was weak, the voice quiet and strained. But it was Holtzmann nonetheless. And Erin held on to it like a lifeline.

‘Yes, it’s me. Are you okay?’ Erin quickly asked.

She braced herself for the worst, with disturbing images flashing through her mind; Holtzmann, lying still on the side of the road; Holtzmann with broken bones, a glazed look over her eyes; Holtzmann, stuck inside of a loaded dumpster, bleeding on top of a pile of broken glass…

Except, Holtzmann began to chuckle.

 _‘I’m sick.’_ Holtzmann put it simply. The blonde then broke off into a series of coughs, a soreness prickling at the back of her throat.

_‘But thanks for the lovely imagery, Gilbert.’_

There was a moment of dreadful relief, knowing that Holtzmann was all right, she was  _okay_ , she wasn't on the brink of death, and before she knew it, the sheer quality of the news began to sink in.

“You’re sick. You’re…sick?” Erin repeated the words to herself, shocked and a little mystified.

Ghosts, explosions, fires, electric shocks, not to mention the freaking apocalypse. Holtzmann had dealt all of those with relative ease. But apparently, all it took was the common cold to take down the invincible. It was something so small, so normal and trivial, that Erin would never have guessed it. Ridiculous, considering Holtzmann was human, after all. And frustrating, considering how preventable this could have been.

'I  _told_  you. You've been pushing yourself too hard,’ Erin growled, using her most convincingly stern voice yet. ‘Don't even think about coming into work today.' 

She heard Holtz's laughter, more lethargic and terse than usual.

 _'I wasn’t planning to, babycakes_ _.’_ Holtzmann said in a sleepy voice.

'Oh.' Erin caught on fairly quickly. 'I woke you up, didn't I? Sorry. Just try and get some rest, okay?'

Holtzmann didn't say much else; a grunt in reply before falling exceptionally silent.

With all her questions answered, Erin went back downstairs. She massaged her temples for a bit, regaining her usual composure. But in truth, she didn't feel much better. Erin mulled over the idea of Holtzmann, all by herself, sick and feverish.

Erin tried to remember the last time she'd been ill. It was an unpleasant memory, for sure.

Lonely. She remembered that feeling, quite clearly.

She didn't want to be alone.

* * *

It was stupid.

It was a stupid, stupid idea.

Erin had acted on a sudden, unfathomable impulse, something she refrained from doing unless it was absolutely necessary. By the end of her rash, irrational decision, Erin found herself standing in front of Holtzmann's apartment door.

It had been a grueling procedure, tracking down Holtzmann's address off of Abby's phonebook, walking up five flights of stairs, fighting every single urge to stop and run.

Now, a million thoughts raced through her mind. What if Holtzmann had fallen asleep again? What if she was being a nuisance? What if Holtzmann didn't want her company? Wasn't she being hypocritical, charging in like this? Why on earth did she think this would be appropriate?

Erin was still contemplating whether or not to ring the doorbell when the door swung open on its own accord.

For a moment, her heart stopped.

It was Holtzmann who stood behind the doorway. Her glasses were gone and so were the goggles on her head. She looked paler than usual, with dark circles around her eyes, her messy hair, tied back into a lazy bun.

She wasn't dressed in her usual flamboyant attire, just an old raggedy sweater and a pair of black pajama bottoms.

“Hey." Holtzmann grinned weakly, her voice raspy and tight. "Come here often?"

Erin lowered her hand as she regained her bearings. “How’d you know I was-?”

Holtzmann passed her a meaningful expression, the kind that seemed to say, "Are you kidding me, Gilbert?"

“Right.” Erin shut her mouth at once, feeling silly and embarrassed. “Never mind.”

She stood awkwardly by the door, playing with the fringed edges of her hair. Holtzmann didn't seem to mind, perhaps a bit too sick to notice Erin's nervous habits. If she wanted Erin to leave, she definitely didn't seem to say it (or think it). 

After a brief pause, Holtzmann pulled the door wide open, gesturing for Erin to come inside.

The other side of Holtzmann's apartment was much plainer than she imagined. 

It was slightly cramped, the ceiling low, and tiny windows with no screens and their curtains closed. There wasn't much of a division between the kitchen and the living room. The room contained a simple stove, a dresser, a washstand, and a small table with two straight-backed chairs.

A large couch took up one side of the wall. Erin remembered Holtzmann talking about how she had found it on the streets. Visibly, it looked fine, if Holtzmann had been telling the truth.

"It's a nice place you have here," she told the truth, even if it lacked the typical Holtzmann personality Erin was used to.

"I keep most of my stuff back at the firehouse," Holtzmann explained, starting to say something about wanting her security deposit back. But before she could finish, the blonde broke off into another nasty fit of coughs. She had to sit down in the middle of it, wheezing into the sleeve of her sweater.

Erin, quickly, sprung into action.

“I, um, I brought you some soup?” She cursed herself for this flimsy effort, but Holtzmann’s eyes seemed to shine with gratitude. "Let me heat this up for you. Uh, may I?"

Erin gestured towards the microwave, to which Holtzmann nodded weakly in response. It took a few uncomfortable minutes, but she managed to set down a bowl of chicken soup onto the table.

"Here. This should help with your sore throat," said Erin, offering her a spoon. "Be careful though. It's really hot."

Holtzmann took it without protest.

“Wow. I didn’t realize you cared so much, Doctor Gilbert,” Holtzmann said teasingly, though she did look a bit dazed. Her eyes were wavering, as though she couldn't believe Erin Gilbert was in her apartment, taking care of her for real. 

"Of course I do." Disbelief laced her tone as Erin spoke. "You're important to me, Holtz. In case you haven’t noticed.”

Holtzmann, perhaps, hadn’t noticed, as her mouth hung open, both her eyes comically wide.

“I mean, to the team,” Erin coughed as she backtracked a step. “You’re important to the team.”

It didn’t matter though, seeing as Holtzmann would be able to read her mind. As expected, she watched the start of Holtzmann's smile, soon widening into a maddeningly smug expression.

“So… How are you feeling?” Erin asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Holtzmann took a careful sip, wincing as the liquid ran down her throat. Her expression turned rather grim and serious. 

_'I’m slowly dying from radiation poisoning.’_

Erin felt herself go pale. “You’re what?”

But then Holtzmann laughed, the impish smile returning to her face, dimples and all.

“I’m just messing with you,” Holtzmann said, as she picked up her spoon again.

It was an insensitive joke, but Erin knew better than to question it. Holtzmann always had the strangest habit of derailing meaningful conversations. So instead, Erin kept a wary eye on the blonde as she ate her soup in silence.

“Have you been to the hospital?” she asked, much later.

“Nope.”

“Are you planning to…?”

“Nope.”

“Of course not," Erin sighed, hardly surprised. 

“It’s fine." Holtzmann stifled another cough. "I’ve got some things in there.”

She pointed to the medicine cabinet on her right. Feeling doubtful, Erin reached towards it, opening up the cupboard to find a few bottles of pills rolling around. Most of them were covered in a thick layer of dust.

“Hold on a second.” She picked one of them out, inspecting it with a closer eye. “Holtzmann, these are way past their expiration dates!”

“So?” Holtzmann hummed in mild disinterest.

“What do you mean ‘so’?” Erin scolded. “You’re a scientist. Don’t you see how troubling that is?”

Apparently, she didn't. Holtzmann gave another quick shrug as she scooped up the rest of her soup.

“When did you even buy these?” Erin continued to rant. “They look ancient.”

“They were there when I moved in,” Holtzmann replied, looking tickled by the horror brewing on Erin's face. 

“No. Absolutely not.” She shook her head in obvious disapproval. “I’ll drop by the pharmacy and get you some new, actually functioning pills.”

"Don't bother," Holtzmann said after a groan. Ironically, she looked even more tired now that she had finished eating. Her breaths were quick and shallow, and that sunken, hollow look in her eyes was back.

Erin took notice of all this, feeling oddly protective. “When’s the last time you properly slept?”

“Two days ago,” Holtzmann mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Erin gasped, refusing to believe what she just heard.

“Two days,” Holtzmann repeated, now with a somewhat proud grin, "and counting."

“Holtz!” Erin exclaimed in half-concern and half-exasperation. Arguably, it was more of the latter. “That's not funny. You  _need_  to sleep.”

"I was about to," Holtzmann reminded her, clearly amused. "You're the one who woke me up."

"Well, uh, yeah, because you needed to eat something," Erin reasoned her way out. "Come on. Let's get you to bed now."

She forced Holtzmann out of her chair, dragging her to what appeared to be her bedroom. Even so, Holtzmann refused to lie down and rest, stopping at the foot of her mattress with surprising strength. She fashioned a look of great dismay as she stared up at Erin.

"Can I show you something first?" she asked.

It was a soft plea, to which Erin gave her a pitying look. Admittedly, Holtzmann did look a little adorable, so wound up and out of her element. 

“Fine." She relented, for the time being, her curiosity getting the best of her.

As if she had been waiting for this moment all along, Holtzmann wiggled out of Erin's grip. She watched as the blonde wobbled over to the corner of her room, rummaging through a mess piled on top of the bedside table. Holtzmann soon returned, holding something in the palm of her hand. They were two tiny devices, both of them closely resembling earbuds.

“What?" Erin asked, feeling very confused. "What am I looking at?”

“A solution,” Holtzmann said shortly. “Temporary solution. But it’s better than nothing.”

“...I don’t understand.”

“Allow me to demonstrate,” said Holtzmann, picking one of them and popping it into her ear. “See?”

Erin waited, unsure of what to expect.

“No? I don’t see.” Erin frowned, after a period of lingering silence. “What are you trying to-?”

Her mind froze. 

 _Silence._ That's right. 

Erin narrowed her eyes, focusing on Holtzmann, and Holtzmann alone, her exceptionally chaotic, swirly mind. She tried, hard, but all she met with was a sheet of blank white, an impasse, like facing a gigantic wall. 

“I can’t read your mind,” Erin came to a startling conclusion, her jaws dropping to the floor. Holtzmann broke out into another wide smile, throwing her fist in the air.

“Oh my god, Holtzmann.” Erin looked down at the gadget, and then at her friend, in absolute awe. “How did you figure this out?”

“Science. Radio Technology. And a couple dozen cans of Red Bull," she listed with a manic grin. It came off as more of a grimace though, in her current conditions. “I’d explain more but Holtzy tired.”

Her eyes still looked quite vacant and unfocused, making Erin wonder if the blonde had been running a high fever as well.

"Oh no." Worried, Erin coerced her back into bed, this time meeting little to no resistance, much to her relief. Holtzmann moaned, her face scrunching up in pain as she dropped down against a pillow.

"I really appreciate you doing this," Erin started, sighing as she tucked her in, "but I need you to take better care of yourself, okay? Promise?"

"Mhm." Holtzmann gave her a short nod, before burrowing her face into her blankets.

“You can go now, Nightingale," she said in a low muffled voice.

“I know. I just…” Erin frowned, realizing that, for some reason, she didn't want to go just yet. "I don't mind staying, if you want?"

There was no answer to her question, making Erin a tad edgy and nervous. Maybe Holtzmann didn't want to talk, or perhaps she couldn't say anything at all. Instead, Erin saw a little wiggle of movement underneath the blankets. And then she saw Holtzmann's hand poking out of the covers, handing something over to her in silence.

Erin took the tiny earbud contraption, confused, setting it down on the bedside table without another word. She thought about what this could have meant and drew up the courage to ask again.

"Holtzmann..." Everything slowed for the next minute. "Do you want me to leave?"

_'...No.'_

Erin laughed, her lips giving away to a relieved sort of grin. "Okay then. I'll stay."

She sat down at the edge of the bed, listening to Holtzmann's heavy labored breathing. There was another pause, and Erin could hear her mind whirring. She waited, patiently, as Holtzmann stayed quiet, her mind racing with so many different thoughts.

_'You’re happy now, right? You’re not mad?'_

“I was never mad," said Erin, defensively.

 _'Sure.'_  Holtzmann shushed her halfheartedly.

There was a small pause, and Erin felt her comfort dissipate.

“Holtz, really. I was never mad at you," Erin began miserably. "I was- I was mad at myself. For thinking about things that I can’t help but start to think about. Things that… Things that shouldn’t even matter. Things that don’t concern you. I didn’t mean to blame you or hurt you, or anything along those lines. I was just confused, and maybe a little bit scared."

She took a moment to collect herself, wondering if she should continue.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Holtz?" Erin frowned at the lack of response. "Holtzmann?"

She looked down, noticing the top of Holtzmann's head poking out from the covers, and the blanket, rising and falling alongside her soft snores.

Erin stayed still, not knowing what to do now. She promised to stay, and so she would.

She looked down at her right hand, still gripping onto the small device Holtz had given her. For a second, she considered putting it on. It was the only logical move, after all. It was made to be used. But Holtzmann was asleep now; it didn't seem quite necessary.

Erin gave it one more conflicted look before pocketing it in her pants.

She stayed, listening to Holtzmann dream.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erin finds it hard to believe she can ever consider Holtzmann as being attractive.

After two days of mandatory bed rest, Holtzmann was back at the firehouse.

Life had taken a drastic turn since then.

Erin wasn’t quite sure what had changed. Maybe it was the sense of security Holtzmann had brought onto the table. Maybe it was the fact that Erin felt like she knew Holtzmann a little better now, with or without the earpieces.

The contraptions Holtzmann had built worked marvelously. They studied the system behind it, with Holtzmann trying to describe what she had been working on and Erin trying to translate it all into actual, scientific terms.

Mostly, Erin focused her time on the theoretical, how the maths could be applied to possibly reverse the effects of their psychic connection. Holtzmann, however, preoccupied a large sum of her time coming up with a name for her new invention. As of the moment, she seemed to have settled on the term “mind-coms.”

“They’re like stealth coms,” Holtzmann explained, “only better.”

It was a minor change, but it made all of the difference.

Now that Erin had far more control over what she thought or shared, the present felt a lot less daunting.

She’d keep the earpiece in for most of the day, and turned it on when she was trying to work or found her mind wandering to something inappropriate. It saved her from many moments of embarrassment, Erin reasoned, because Holtzmann really didn’t need to know all of her deepest darkest secrets.

Holtzmann, however, seemed to make little use of her own invention. That being said, Holtzmann's mind was almost always an open book. There, to entertain Erin’s thoughts and questions.

During the rare occurrences when she was not, Erin surprised herself, feeling something akin to disappointment when all she found in return was a staticky blank wall. It made her a bit curious, wondering what Holtzmann could be thinking about in silence.

Often times enough, Erin found herself taking off the earpiece during the night. Largely because it was uncomfortable, and also because she missed her midnight conversations with Holtz.

Holtzmann was right when telling Erin that the possibilities were endless. Their connection had far more advantages than she previously believed. Of course, some of them were dumb little things, like Erin letting Holtzmann know whenever somebody was about to steal her snacks from the fridge.

‘You're about to lose your last chocolate pudding,’ Erin would tell.

A second later, Holtzmann swung down the fireman’s pole, yelling “Pattycakes, don’t you dare!”

Caught red-handed, Patty dropped the container she was holding.

“How the hell do you keep doing that?” she demanded. “You got cameras in here or something?”

“Or something,” said Holtzmann, winking at Erin, before sauntering back upstairs.

Emergency trips to the hospital had also gone down by 83%.

All credits went to Erin, who would know in an instant when Holtzmann was up to no good, and she’d run upstairs to stop the situation from getting out of hand.

The two of them made the perfect team, reading each other's moods, caring for each other's needs, busting ghosts, working so efficiently that even the mayor was impressed.

Eventually, Abby grew suspicious of something. She had to, given the clues.

The biggest indicator would have been Erin's suddenly sunny dispositions.

A number of times, Erin would be sitting at her desk downstairs, reading a book (or trying to at least), when Holtzmann made another lame joke, something that would never be considered funny if said by anyone else, but this was Holtz, and Holtz – in all her strangeness and glorious oddity – always managed to make Erin laugh.

So, Erin would start cracking up, long before realizing that what she’d heard hadn’t been shared with those in the room. Then she'd quickly hide her face behind a book, hoping no one noticed. If it became too hard to bear, she’d just sneak upstairs, twice, or three times in one day. She found it easier to talk to Holtzmann face-to-face, rather than staying downstairs and hiding the smile on her face.

Abby, who saw Erin frequently giggling to herself, was concerned at first, but then proceeded to assume the worst case imaginable.

“Are you seeing anyone now?” Abby came forward smiling, eager almost, in her resolve to know the truth. Erin, in response, dropped her last eggroll on the floor.

“Um, no? No, not really,” Erin replied quickly, touching her ear, out of habit, to see if Holtz’s mind-com was still intact.

“But Phil’s out of the picture, right?” she asked again, sounding more persistent. “You haven’t been in touch with him?”

“Abby, please. He was a  _horrible_  boyfriend.” Erin nearly gagged at the idea of seeing him again. “And you guys all saw me dump him, remember? He came by the firehouse and you were making fun of the way he danced?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Abby grinned, apparently pleased by the reminder. “You’re just in a good mood these days, I was wondering if you met someone new.”

“No?" Erin's voice went up an octave. "No, there’s nobody new." 

“Then maybe it’s someone we already know?” Abby did a weird little dance with her eyebrows, suggesting that Erin might be up to something naughty.

“Nope,” Erin squirmed in her chair, “I guess I’m just happy. Happy for no reason whatsoever.”

“If you say so,” said Abby, still wearing an annoyingly cheeky grin. “But you’ll let me know when there is, you know, a special someone?”

Erin pondered on the likeability of that happening anytime soon. She didn’t like how her mind lingered for a second on Holtzmann, but she shook it right out of her crazy head.

“Sure,” she replied. “Definitely.”

* * *

It wasn't noticeable first, but it grew harder to ignore.

And the more Erin spent time with Holtzmann, the more certain she became that something fundamental had changed between them - she just couldn't understand _what_.

Erin hoped that the feeling would go away on its own. Because, needless to say, she was quite enjoying the peace between her and Holtz’s coexistence.

And it would have stayed perfectly that way if somebody hadn’t visited the office that late Wednesday afternoon.

It was Jennifer Lynch, the mayor's secretary who came by with an agenda.

As usual, she skipped through all the normal pleasantries and cut straight to the chase.

“I'm here because Mayor Bradley’s planning on throwing a community fundraiser as a part of his campaign this year,” Jennifer announced, passing along the message with a thoughtless smile. "He's asked for all of you to attend."

"Oh." Abby crossed her arms, clearly trying not to get her hopes up. "That's nice of him."

“Before you say yes, here are your official invitations," Lynch took out a couple of white envelopes from her purse, "You will need them to access the party.”

“Wait. It’s this Saturday?” Abby remarked, after checking the date. “Seriously? You couldn’t give us more than just a three day notice?"

“So, these are just pity invites,” Patty agreed as she opened up hers as well.

“Well, as you may already know, Mayor Bradley is a  _very_ busy man and he works on an incredibly tight schedule.” Jennifer breezed over it like it was no big deal. “I know it may be short notice, but the city of New York would  _really_ like for you to be there.”

“I mean... It’s not like we have anything better to do. Right, guys?” Looking conflicted, Abby asked around the room.

“Or maybe something that makes us sound a little less sad,” Erin opposed, but she put on a fake polite smile and shook Lynch’s hand. “Yes, the Ghostbusters will definitely be there.”

“Great! And also remember, this is a formal event,” Jennifer added as an important side note. “So please make sure you are all dressed _appropriately_  when you attend.”

She looked straight at Holtzmann as she said this.

“Yeah,” Patty scoffed, “Good luck with that.”

* * *

“Holtzmann. Be serious.”

Erin wondered how many times she’d have to repeat herself in order for Holtz to actually listen.

“What? You don’t like it?” Holtzmann asked as she held up a disco-style suit, a red tie, and a pair of black tactical boots.

“It’s not exactly…appropriate,” Erin phrased her answer carefully.

“But it’s a suit,” Holtz argued.

“It has tassels on the bottom,” she added in sharp disapproval. “ _Tassels_ , Holtzmann.”

And yet Holtzmann was still frowning, as though she really couldn’t understand what the problem was.

“Okay, that’s it." Erin sighed, getting up from her seat. "Move over.”

Holtzmann gladly stepped out of the way, watching bug-eyed as Erin dug into her mess of a closet.

Of course, Erin  _had_ to have lost at rock-paper-scissors. Unlike Abby and Patty, who had the luxury of staying at home or going out on a date, she was stuck here on Holtzmann duty, forced to spend the rest of her precious Friday evening making sure Holtz didn’t wear anything too deranged to the party.

It wasn’t like Erin ever had a problem with Holtzmann’s usual clothes. They were a special part of Holtzmann’s character. Endearing, almost, once her eyes learned to adjust.

It’s just that the last time they had been invited to a formal event, Holtzmann had shown up in the strangest costume yet, looking like something straight out of a sci-fi comic book series.

Determined not to let history repeat itself, Erin rummaged around her friend’s tiny, eclectic wardrobe. Except with each passing minute, she began to lose hope.

“Do you have anything in here that’s not green, or yellow, or purple, or  _god_ , covered in rhinestones?” Erin asked in exasperation.

Holtzmann stared intently at the ceiling, putting on her thinking face. “How about zebra stripes?” she proposed.

“I give up.” Erin threw herself back down on the couch. “Wear whatever you want. We’ll just tell the mayor you suffered another stroke.”

Holtzmann nudged her with a short smile. “You know we can’t keep using that excuse."

“Well, maybe if you went shopping once in a while, we won’t need to,” Erin went on dryly. She glanced over at the clock and groaned. “It's getting late. I should start heading back now."

"Are you sure?" Holtzmann frowned, looking way too disappointed. "You're welcome to stay the night, Gilbert."

It was a tempting offer, and it drove Erin crazy to know that the first thing she thought of was Abby's question from before.

"No, um, I have to get up early the next morning and," Erin quickly gathered up an excuse, "feed my neighbor's cat."

It was a very obvious lie, something Holtzmann must have known, with or without her earpiece intact. But she only gave Erin a look of childish frustration, before conceding with a short nod.

Erin took the opportunity to put on her coat. 

"Sorry," she grinned apologetically, "Maybe next time?"

"Yeah," Holtzmann pouted as she held open the door for her, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Please, please wear something nice. Okay?” Erin asked again before she left.

Holtzmann, at least, had the decency not to laugh in her face.

* * *

On the fateful Saturday evening, Erin was wearing her best dress.

Nothing in tweed or plaid. Just an off the shoulder dress, a faint daisy color to match her new shoes.

As usual, she had arrived way too early and had to stand by nervously, waiting for her friends to show.

The party was somewhere in upstate New York, at an expensive, exclusive hotel Erin had never even heard of before. It was nearing eight o'clock, and the city lights shined wondrously through the night.

She sighed in visible relief when Abby and Patty turned up right on time. They were both dressed appropriately; Abby, in a blouse and skirt Erin had seen her wear in the past, and Patty, in a sparkly black dress.

"Looking good, ladies," Patty complimented them both. 

"It feels weird to wear something nice for a change." Abby grinned as she glanced down at her garment. "At least we don't have to worry about getting slimed today."

"Speaking of slime, where's Holtzmann?" Erin asked, having expected Holtz to arrive with the rest of the team.

"I don't know." Abby shrugged. "I thought she'd be here with you."

“How much you wanna bet that she’s gonna show up in something crazy again?” Patty laughed.

“Oh, I’ll take that action,” said Abby eagerly. Erin watched as they shook hands, praying that Abby would win this round, for good reasons.

‘Holtzmann. You’re late.’ Erin checked her watch as she thought. ‘Get your butt over here, now.’

There was a moment of silence, and Erin wondered if Holtzmann had been ignoring her on purpose, but then there was a brief period of tickled laughter, and she soon heard Holtzmann’s voice taunting inside her ears.

_‘Just my butt? Or can I come too?’_

‘You know what I mean.’ Erin rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, we’re all waiting for you.’

_‘Ah, well, there’s been an unfortunate grease incident with Ecto-2, so I might be a while longer.’_

‘...Excuse me?’

_‘Yeah. Ecto-2 wasn’t very happy with me either.’_

‘You better be joking me,’ Erin growled.

_‘I don’t know. Am I?’_

‘Holtzmann!’ she shouted in silent frustration. She was about to march right back to the firehouse when a hand grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Erin!” Abby's voice startled Erin out of her thoughts. 

“What?” she replied, feeling rudely interrupted.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Abby frowned. “You just totally spaced out on us for the last minute.”

“And you did a bunch of weird stuff with your face too,” Patty added.

“Oh.” Erin felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Right, well, I was-”

_‘No worries, hot stuff. I’m here at last.’_

“Holtzmann’s here,” Erin announced quickly, more than merry to have Holtz take the heat off of her.

“What? Where?”

_‘I’m standing by the water fountain.’_

"She's over by the water fountain?" Erin pondered over Holtz's words, which didn't make any sense because that's exactly where  _she_  and the others were currently standing, and Holtzmann was definitely nowhere to be seen.

‘What? No, you’re not. Where-’

And just as Erin’s patience was about to expire, she noticed someone.

Someone, standing abnormally close to her. Except, this person couldn’t possibly be Holtzmann.

First of all, her clothes were gone.

Not gone  _completely,_ of course. But gone were the flair, the colors, the various paint and oil stains. Instead, this duplicate of Jillian Holtzmann was wearing a seamless black suit. No scorch marks, no flashy buttons, no screw-bolted necklaces, just a plain old tie around her neck; clean, she might add, free of wrinkles.  

Her goggles were gone, and so were her gloves. Military boots, replaced with a pair of nice oxford shoes. Her hair was still tied up in a bun, but it looked calmer somehow, softer and well-kept.

Holtzmann stepped forward, a very smug, very giddy expression on her face.

“Since you asked so nicely," she whispered, leaning in.

Erin gaped at her, open-mouthed and flabbergasted. But luckily, she wasn't the only one with a similar reaction.

“Oh my god," Abby gasped from behind, "Is that...?" 

"Damn it, Holtzmann!" Patty swore. "Now I owe Abby ten dollars."

"Never bet against me," Holtzmann replied, a cocky smile dangling on her lips. She was looking at Erin though, as she said this, which didn't bode well with Erin, who wasn't trusting herself to speak just yet.

By the time Patty emptied her purse for some change, the crowd was beginning to move forward. Abby and Patty hurriedly followed in line, discussing what kind of food they think will be served at the party.

Holtzmann, however, stayed behind for a moment.

"Shall we?" Holtzmann asked, sort of rocking back and forth from heel to toe.

Erin, not knowing how else to say no, linked arms with Holtzmann.

Together, they headed inside.

Up until five minutes ago, Erin wasn't even sure if Holtzmann could do 'normal.' Now, she had to come to a startling realization that Holtzmann will _always_ take her by her surprise.

Surprisingly, Holtzmann was being perfectly chivalrous. She didn't run. She didn't start randomly dancing in public. She stayed right by Erin's side, matching to her high-heel pace.

They were all ushered into the grand ballroom, with designated tables and fancy silverware.

The hotel was much more elegant on the inside, with brandished furniture, and a gigantic crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

People in glamorous dresses and suits were lining up around the buffet table. Mayor Bradley was near the front of the room, engaging in polite chitchat, holding a glass of sparkling wine. 

Erin was marveling over the view when she heard Patty, dramatically stopping for a breath of air.

"You seeing what I'm seeing?" she asked, pointing.

"It's an open bar!" Abby confirmed, then cheered. She quickly moved across the floor, an equally excited Patty by her side.

"You want a drink, Gilbert?" Holtzmann asked as well. "Better get a move on things, before Patty sweeps the entire bar."

But Erin wasn't thinking about drinks at the moment.

She was growing increasingly aware of the fact that Holtzmann was still holding her by the arm, and Erin, in turn, was still awkwardly clutching onto Holtzmann's elbow.

Erin thought about this, about Holtzmann, in her new beautiful black suit. Holtz, looking content and relaxed.

And it finally began to dawn upon her what had really changed.

It was this level of  _intimacy._ How comfortable they felt when it was just them. Like they weren't here as a part of a group, as colleagues, as two regular Ghostbusters, but as one _._

_One couple._

...Oh no.

She hoped Holtzmann didn’t hear that. She couldn’t have. She must have remembered to turn her earpiece back on, after talking to… Her thoughts ran off, just as Holtzmann matched her gaze, her sharp blue eyes catching Erin off guard.

And the timing. The timing of it all said everything she needed to fear. 

Erin skidded to an abrupt halt. She tore her eyes away, looking down and swearing loudly under her breath. Holtzmann was still standing next to her, watching in concerned amusement.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, sorry. I have to, uh, I think I forgot to powder something," Erin mumbled. "I'll be right back."


End file.
